


Shen s'Vitush

by Aphrodite319



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aphrodite319/pseuds/Aphrodite319
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise encounters an unexplained anomaly en route to the new Vulcan colony -- and Spock finds something he thought lost to him forever. How does one handle reality when it is not their own? Some Spock/Nyota, but mainly Sarek/Amanda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

Chapter I

 

             The bridge was quiet by its usual standards. Normally there was a great deal of bustle and movement as officers ran back and forth with reports, giving orders and updating the captain on whatever scientific phenomenon they were currently investigating. Today, however, the mission was a routine one, even boring compared to most of their adventures. Delivering a shipment of supplies to the new Vulcan colony was hardly life-threatening.

             Uhura adjusted the earpiece in her left ear and leaned forward over her console, listening intently as she fiddled with the switches and screen before her. There were no incoming transmissions. There hadn’t been anything in the last six hours.

             She glanced at the clock. It was almost time for her to end her shift. Below the time, there was the estimated time of arrival for their destination: 10 hours, 16 minutes and 23 seconds.

             Uhura looked to her right, to where Spock sat at the science station. He was looking at something on his screen and did not notice that her attention had wandered. She bit her lip, thinking about Shen s’Vitush and what waited there.

 _Should I ask him?_ she wondered. She knew he didn’t like it when she pried, even if he would never say so. And yet, she thought it was a topic that needed to be broached.

             The glowing numerals on the clock changed to 1800 hours and it was time to go. Uhura brought her end-of-shift report to Kirk and left; Spock was right behind her.

             With one glance they came to a silent mutual agreement, and without a word Spock followed her off the lift on the fourth deck and to her quarters. They rarely had a shift off together, what with their conflicting schedules, but it was one of those rare shifts and they never missed the opportunity to spend them together.

             The door shut with a whoosh behind them. They set their PADDS on the nightstand, but as Spock took off his Starfleet-issue boots Uhura stood uncertainly in the doorway.

             “Well?” she asked.

             Spock glanced up at her, then set his boots neatly in the closet.

            “Nyota, until the day we are bonded, I cannot know what you are thinking,” he said.

            “Are you going to go see him?”

            There was a beat of silence while Spock surveyed her, then he turned away to take off his shirt. Still turned away, he said, “I presume you mean my father?”

            “Yes.”

            Spock neatly folded his shirt and put it on the nightstand, like he always did. “I suppose I will have to. As head of the Vulcan Reconstruction effort, it is his duty to oversee shipments to the colony.”

            “You know what I mean,” Uhura said, exasperated. When Spock still did not look up at her, she went to him, reaching out to caress his jaw and turn his face to hers. “You can’t avoid him forever, Spock.”

            “I am not avoiding him,” Spock said flatly, drawing away from her. “I have had no occasion to speak to him.”

            “You don’t need an occasion to speak to your own father!” Uhura said. Refusing to let him distance himself from her – something he always did when she brought up the tenuous subject of his father – she took his arm and pulled him back around to face her. “I know why you don’t want to talk to him. Seeing him reminds you of your mother. But he’s hurting too, Spock! You’re all the family he has left, and he’s all the family _you_ have left. You haven’t spoken to him except for Starfleet business since he left for Shen s’Vitush – that’s almost a year!” Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. Then, in a more pleading tone, “I really think you should go visit him. I’m sure the captain would allow it.”

            Spock’s dark brown eyes were watching her, but she couldn’t read the expression behind them. Finally, his shoulders sagged a little, a sure sign that she had won.

            “Very well. I will go see my father when we arrive on Shen s’Vitush. However, you must come with me.”

            Uhura beamed and wrapped her arms around him. Planting a kiss on his lips, she pulled away. “Of course I will,” she said. Then she added, “I knew you were too smart not to listen to me.”

            Before he could protest, she kissed him again, and pushed him toward the bed.

 

       *************************************************************************

 

 

            When they woke the next morning – or what passed as morning on the ship – the colony was only two hours away. While Spock was in the shower, Uhura called ahead on a private line to let Sarek know they would be stopping by. Spock did not know this, of course, but Uhura was determined to get the two together.

            Once her phone call was complete, Uhura crawled back under the covers and turned so she could look through the open bathroom door. All she could see of Spock was a blurry flesh-colored figure through the marbled glass walls of the shower stall, but as she saw it she felt sadness well up within her.

            He tried to hide it, Uhura knew, but nothing had been the same since Amanda’s death. When Spock had his guard down, when he thought she wasn’t looking, she could see the grief in his eyes, feel it in his touch. He had been more distant with her than before, rarely telling her anything of his feelings, and always drew away when she touched upon the subject of his parents. It saddened her, crushed her, to know that he didn’t want to share it with her, or worse – felt that he couldn’t, or that she couldn’t handle it. Part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could come to terms with his mother’s death, and talking to his father might help…

            The shower shut off and Spock stepped out. Uhura forced a smile onto her face when he came into the room, but it felt as hollow as she did.

 

*************************************************************************

 

            They arrived at the bridge together. No one spared them a second glance as they sat at their separate stations and set to work; it was too common an occurrence to be noteworthy.

            They were preparing the ship to drop out of warp when it happened. The ship shuddered, just enough to jostle its crew, but not enough to send anyone flying. Uhura grabbed the edge of her console just in case, eyes wide as she looked around, but it was over almost as soon as it started. Spock glanced her way to ensure she was okay, then started typing away at his console, eyes flitting over his screen, reading and interpreting the data sent by the sensors.

            “What was that?” Kirk asked with a frown.

            “The sensors currently show nothing, Captain,” Spock replied. “There was an anomaly 10.3 seconds ago. Analyzing now.”

            “Anyone else?” Kirk asked the room at large.

            “Nothing from Communications, Captain,” Uhura replied, frowning as she adjusted the sensors.

            No one else had anything to report. Kirk looked unsettled; he glanced back at Spock. “Anything yet, Mr. Spock?” he asked uneasily.

            Spock turned from his station, eyebrows furrowed. “Nothing I can explain, Captain. There was a definite surge in the sensors, but no indication of the source. There is nothing in the area to cause any alarm.”

            “A glitch in the ship’s system, maybe?” Kirk mused.

            “Perhaps,” Spock said, but his risen eyebrow told Uhura that he didn’t think so.

            “Well, if there’s nothing to worry about in the area, we’ll just have the sensors re-calibrated while we’re unloading our cargo,” Kirk decided. “And I’ll have Mr. Scott look at the rest of the systems too.”

            They dropped out of warp to orbit Shen s’Vitush. The red planet looked much like Vulcan, except it was much smaller and the dark side lacked the glitter of city lights. Uhura looked to her right and caught Spock gazing at the main viewing screen, which showed what was now his home planet.

            A crackle sounded in Uhura’s ear, followed by a cool female voice speaking Vulcan.

            “Shen s’Vitush Security. Please state your intended purpose in our airspace.”

            “U.S.S. Enterprise here, preparing to unload a shipment of supplies to the colony,” Uhura replied.

            “The U.S.S. Enterprise?” There was a pause. “You are early. We did not expect the shipment for another two days. Captain Sang was supposed to make the delivery.”

            “Captain Sang was held up. We are here in his place.”

            There was another pause, then the Vulcan asked to speak to the captain. Uhura transferred the transmission to the main screen; after Kirk confirmed what Uhura had said, the Vulcan reluctantly granted them permission to beam down.

            “Uhura, Spock,” Kirk said once permission had been given. Spock and Uhura went to stand before the command chair. “I received a message last night requesting permission to go planet-side.”

            “Yes, sir,” Uhura replied.

            “Well, _technically_ I’m not supposed to let you go planet-side unless it’s for official Starfleet business or Command-sanctioned shore-leaves,” Kirk said, but then he grinned. “Lucky for you, I need someone to go down and make sure everything arrives. You have four hours to … make sure everything’s there, before we have to leave.”

            “Thank you, Captain,” Spock said. Uhura flashed the captain a grateful smile before following Spock off the bridge and into the lift.

 

            **********************************************************************

            When they beamed down onto the surface it was to find themselves on a transporter platform crowded with crates. Vulcan workers carried the crates off the platform, stacking them against a wall to await transportation, not looking up at the two Starfleet officers in their midst.

            Spock took her elbow and helped her off the platform. Uhura craned her neck, searching the faces in the crowd surrounding the transporter station, looking for one in particular. Taking note of her behavior, Spock asked, “Nyota, who are you looking for? My father would not meet us here. He does not even know we are here.”

            “But I _am_ looking for him.” Uhura frowned. “I don’t see him. He said he’d be here.”

            Suspicion darkened Spock’s eyes. “You did not tell me you spoke to him.”

            “Yeah, well…” Uhura gave him a sheepish smile. “I called him last night to let him know we’d be here. He told me he’d be waiting on the platform.”

            “Perhaps he is nearby,” Spock suggested. Though he said nothing about her deception, she knew he was not pleased.

            But he wasn’t nearby. They looked all over the transporter station but didn’t see him. Finally, Spock went to a public computer console.

            “Vulcan High Command has recorded the addresses of all those living here,” Spock told her. “I should be able to locate his lodgings.”

            A search for S’chn T’gai, Spock’s and Sarek’s clan name, yielded the desired results. They set out from the station, following a sandy road between two hills and into the valley beyond.

            Shen s’Vitush lay spread out below them. Construction on public buildings and homes was still ongoing; laborers drove transportation trucks stacked high with stone blocks, delicate computer equipment or other materials to construction sites, where still more workers braved the oppressive heat – so similar to Vulcan’s – to lay the foundations for schools, homes, meeting centers, libraries and the new Vulcan Science Academy and Vulcan High Command Center. The finished homes lay beyond the city center, built of red stone bricks that seemed to bake in the early morning sunlight. In the very distance, Uhura could see the beginnings of farms, the first crops of Shen s’Vitush’s self-sustainment.

            She noticed as they went on that there were very few children about. When she mentioned it to Spock, he told her that most Vulcan children were being kept on other planets until the colony was better established. Every Vulcan who currently lived in Shen s’Vitush helped the Reconstruction in some way, whether by hard labor, managing hard labor, or assisting in the more political aspects.

            “This is only what will be the capital. Other cities are being established elsewhere on the planet. They will be small to begin with, but the elders think we will soon be able to double our current population. All bonded couples are being encouraged to procreate as soon as is convenient, and it is recommended that each couple have at least two or three children within the next ten years.”

            Uhura did not know how he knew where he was going, but Spock led her toward the houses on the outer limits and down two rows. They started down a side street. She wondered how he would know which was his father’s house – they all looked the same, and as far as she could tell, they had no identifying marks anywhere.

            She wondered why Sarek had not met them as promised. It was highly unusual of him – or any other Vulcan, for that matter. She worried that something had happened to him – was he sick? Injured? Dead? Or had there been some urgent meeting that took precedence?

            Spock seemed to find the house he was looking for. He started up a pathway to a house midway down the street. It looked just like the others, made of red stone shimmering in the heat, a plain roof and no sort of ornament in the yard – not that she expected one.

            Spock knocked on the door. There was a pause, then the sound of locks sliding back – apparently they had not yet endowed the houses with modern, or even basic, technology. The door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman in the traditional Vulcan garb of stiff dress and veil.

            “How may I help –“ The woman’s words were cut off. Spock and Uhura stared at her; she stared back. Uhura’s eyes widened and her heart slammed in her chest, every beat felt throughout her entire body. Her mouth fell open in shock.

            Standing before them was Amanda Grayson.


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

 

            Spock’s heart stopped in his chest, his body going cold and numb.

            It was impossible. She was dead. She had been dead over a year. He had watched her fall into the crumbling rubble of Vulcan, his hand stretched out to empty air.

            And yet here she stood, as real as he and Nyota were. He could see every lash around her dark brown eyes, the sheen of sweat on her skin; he could hear her breathing.

            The woman’s face, blank with shock, hardened into fury as her eyes shifted from Spock to Nyota. She stepped back, and the door slammed shut in their faces, the locks sliding back into place.

            Spock stared at the closed door for a moment, then placed his hand on the door, testing it.

            “What are you doing?” Nyota asked. She was still staring at the door where Amanda’s face had appeared. “And was that…?”

            “I must get inside,” he said. “I must question this woman and find out who she is.”

            “Wait – don’t --!” Nyota began, but Spock had already rammed his shoulder into the door, which shuddered in its frame.

            Uhura watched in stunned silence as he rammed into the door again; this time, he heard the crunching of wood. With the next push, the door came clean off its hinges.

            The house was small, only three rooms: a living room and combined kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom. The rooms were dim, curtains pulled shut over the windows to block out the light. From the bedroom there came a very familiar voice.

            “Get out! I don’t know who you are, but get out! Nyota, how could you do this? Is this some horrible joke?”

            Through the open doorway they could see her sitting on the bed, her arms wrapped around herself. She stared at Spock as if he were a ghost; Spock stared back at her in much the same way.

            “You know me?” Nyota asked wonderingly.

            Yes, Spock thought. This was sure proof this woman was not his mother. Amanda had never met Nyota.

            “What do you mean, do I know you?” the imposter asked, full of reproach. “We’re friends! Or at least, I thought we were. Get him out of here, Nyota.” Her voice broke as she looked away.

            “Who are you?” Spock’s voice was cold.

            The impostor’s face twisted as she looked back at him. “I think the question here is who are YOU and why are you posing as my dead son?”

            Spock took a step toward her; she shot up from the bed and made for the bathroom door, but Spock was too fast. He caught her by the arm, pulling her back around to face him. They were face to face, identical brown eyes staring into each other. After a pause, the woman raised one trembling hand and touched his cheek. 

            “My God,” Amanda whispered. “It _is_ you.”

            Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp in his arms.

XXXXX

 

The house was silent. Spock and Nyota stood side by side, watching the woman on the bed. She had been unconscious for nearly five minutes.

            “It is impossible,” Spock finally said. His arms were folded over his chest. “I must know who she is and why she is here. If my father knows of her presence he should have informed me.”

            “Maybe she’s a clone,” Nyota suggested.

            The idea sounded ridiculous at first, but then Spock wondered. Had his father’s loneliness become so hard to bear that he had turned to replicating his wife?

            “She said you were dead,” Nyota said quietly. “She seems convinced of it.”

            Another possibility occurred to him then, but Spock did not voice it. It was almost as impossible as his mother being alive.

            Amanda – or her doppelganger – groaned and stirred on the bed. Her eyes opened and she looked at them. She sat up quickly, eyes fixed on Spock.

            A moment passed, then she asked: “How?”

            “How what?” Spock asked.

            “How are you here? Are you a … a ghost? I’ve never believed in such things, but you’re here and I…” she trailed off, biting her lip. Then she moved her legs to the side of the bed and stood up. “No, you’re solid. You can’t be a ghost.”

“Mrs. Grayson,” Nyota said politely, stepping forward. “Do you mean to say you think Spock’s dead?”

            “Of course he is,” Amanda said, still gazing at him. “He died crashing a ship into the Narada – those details are classified, of course, but I was there, after all. He’s lauded as a hero by everyone in the Federation. There’s a monument dedicated to him in San Francisco.”

            “I am very much alive. I was beamed out in time,” Spock informed her.

            Amanda shook her head. “No, you weren’t. I was there, in the transporter room, waiting for you to come back.”

            “If you question the reality of my survival, then I must question yours. I watched you die on Vulcan.” Saying the words brought a searing pain in his heart as he remembered watching his mother slip away from him into the black void…

            “I didn’t die on Vulcan.” Amanda looked puzzled. “I was beamed out with the elders. You were there, Spock.”

            “No. I beamed out with the elders and my father. I … I was unable to save you.” Spock looked away from her then, shame threatening to choke him.

            There was a silence, then Spock felt Nyota’s hand on his arm. “Spock,” she whispered, gripping him tightly. “The disturbance we felt before dropping out of warp…”

            Nyota had reached the conclusion he had reached minutes before. After all, it was not an entirely implausible theory, and all the evidence was before them. This woman was very much alive and real, and no impostor.

Spock nodded slowly, staring at his mother – or a version of her.

            “It appears we crossed through some sort of … dimensional rift.”

            “What do you mean?” Amanda asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

            “I mean we have inadvertently traveled to what is often called a parallel, or alternate, universe,” Spock replied. “In my reality, you are dead. In this one, I perished on my mission. Both are true.”

            “How do I know you’re not some sort of – of – _android_ designed to look like my Spock?” Amanda asked. She turned away from him, wringing her hands together as she paced the room. It was something his mother had always done when worried or agitated.

            “How do I know you are not an android designed to look like my mother?” Spock returned coolly.

            Amanda dropped her hands to her sides. “There’s a point there. I suppose your theory is as plausible as mine.” She looked at Nyota. “I suppose you’re from his alternate universe also?”

            “Yes.” Nyota glanced at Spock. “Mrs. Grayson … I’m sorry for the shock we gave you.”

            “Yes, well, it was certainly a shock,” she muttered.

            Now that Spock had gotten over the initial surprise of seeing his mother alive, he studied this Amanda’s face. She looked older than the mother he had watched fall to her death; there were dark circles under her eyes, and more gray in her hair. She had lost a great deal of weight; she had always been a slight woman, but now she was unhealthily thin. But he realized these changes had not been made by time, but by grief: he could see it etched onto her features.

            “Mother,” Spock said, the word feeling strange on his tongue – he did not know what else to call her, but he knew this was not truly his mother. “Where is my father?”

            Pain flickered over her face for a moment, then it became a mask, almost as blank as that of a Vulcan. “He died on Vulcan,” she whispered, turning away. “You say I died there in your reality. In mine, Sarek did.”

            Spock felt a pang of sadness for this woman. She had lost a husband and a son, less than a day apart. But mingled with the sadness was a longing – after a year of thinking he would never see his mother again, here she was, in the flesh. He wanted to say all the things to her he should have said to his own mother, but he held back the words. Instead, he stepped forward and reached out, touching her shoulder.

            She started, but then reached up, putting her hand over his, squeezing it. He felt her grief and confusion, and imagined she felt the same from him.

 

XXXXX

            Amanda bustled around her tiny kitchen, making tea. Spock sat at the small table, watching her with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty. He wanted desperately to believe this woman was his mother, but he knew she was not. Yet part of him refused to accept this logic. She looked like his mother, acted like his mother, even smelled like his mother – like desert flowers and sandalwood incense.

            “Spock.” Nyota leaned toward him and laid her hand on top of his. “I know how you must be feeling right now, but we can’t stay. We need to get back to the Enterprise. What’s more, we need to find a way to get those supplies back that we brought. _Our_ Shen s’Vitush will need them.”

            He knew she was right, but leaving would be so difficult….

            “We will leave soon,” Spock said, not taking his eyes off Amanda.

            Nyota withdrew from him, seeming to understand that he needed more time – more time to drink this woman in with eyes, before he had to leave her forever.

            “Mrs. Grayson,” Nyota said, clearing her throat uncomfortably. “You said you know me – uh, well, my other self – and that we---you---are friends? How did that happen?”

            Amanda set their tea before them. She looked over at Spock, then down at her own cup.

            “We met in the transporter room, while we were waiting … while we were waiting for Spock and the captain to come back. When he … didn’t, we bonded through our grief and became friends. You come to visit when you can, and we talk often.”

            Spock glanced at Nyota. He remembered that day on the lift, just after Vulcan was destroyed, when she had tried to comfort him. Yes, he could see her forming an attachment to his mother upon his demise. He could see her making sure his mother had someone to share her grief with.

            If possible, it made him love her even more to know that another incarnation of her had been there for this incarnation of his mother.

            Spock felt Amanda’s eyes on him; when he looked up, she quickly looked away, but he had seen the tears in her eyes, which she discreetly wiped away.

            “So what will you do now?” she asked, staring down at her tea.

            “That’s a good question.” Nyota looked over at him. “What will we do?”

            “We will report our findings to Captain Kirk. If he follows procedure he should then contact the Vulcan High Council and Starfleet Command to inform them of what has transpired. They should release the supplies back to us and we will return to our own reality,” he replied.

            “How long will that take?” Nyota asked.

            “I estimate that it will take several days. The council will want time to make their own investigations, as will Starfleet.”

            Nyota looked dismayed, but Amanda smiled what was quite possibly her first smile in over a year. It transformed her gaunt features, making her look almost as happy and healthy as she had been a year ago.

            “You can stay here. You two can take the bedroom and I’ll take the sofa.”

            Spock was tempted to accept the offer, but he knew he could not. “We will be expected to stay onboard the Enterprise during the council’s deliberations,” he told her.

            “Oh.” Amanda’s face fell and she looked down again as she turned the teacup in her hands. “Of course.”

            He thought of how lonely she must have been during the past year, and a deep sadness filled him. He wanted to take her hand again, but when he moved to do so, she moved hers away – whether by accident or on purpose, he did not know.

            They finished their tea in an uncomfortable silence. Spock felt Amanda’s eyes on him again, but he let her look. She undoubtedly missed him every bit as much as he missed her.

            “I should escort you back to the transporter station,” Amanda finally said, setting down her empty cup. “You have Starfleet business to attend to.”

            They stood from the table and followed her back through the house and into the sandy street. The rows of houses appeared empty and silent; no one saw them go by.

            “Shen s’Vitush seems to be coming along well,” Nyota said after several minutes of tense silence.

            “Shen … what?” Amanda appeared confused.

            “The colony,” Nyota said, frowning. “That _is_ what it’s called, right?”

            “No. It’s called Uzh-Vulcan – New Vulcan.” Amanda smiled apologetically. “It’s not very inventive, I know, but it’s what the council decided on.”

            “Of course,” Spock said, realizing. “My father named Shen s’Vitush.”

            “Did he?” Nyota seemed surprised.

            “Shen s’Vitush,” Amanda repeated, as if savoring the words. “Yes, that does have Sarek’s mark on it. ‘Rise from ashes.’ He always did have more creativity than the rest of the buzzards on the council. I always liked to think it was because he’d lived with a human for so long.”

            Spock started to speak up in the council’s defense – after all, they were his elders and very important dignitaries – but Amanda looked over her shoulder at him, flashing him a smile. It was so painfully familiar to him that it put her insult out of his mind. He spent the rest of the walk to the transporter station watching the back of her veiled head, trying to talk his irrational side into believing that this was not, in fact, his mother – but all his senses argued otherwise.

            They came to a halt at the platform. The Vulcan workers were gone, but the supplies remained stacked against a wall. Amanda stared at the platform for a moment, swaying on her feet, as if in indecision. Then she turned to them with a tight smile. “I guess this is where we say goodbye. I don’t suppose they’ll let me see you again.”

            Her eyes filled with tears as they settled on Spock. She took a step toward him; he forced himself not to step away as she placed her cool hands on his face.

            “You can’t possibly know how good it was to see you again, even if briefly,” she said, smiling through her tears.

            “I believe I can, Mother,” he said, letting himself believe – just for this moment – that this was the same woman he had not saved.

            She laughed weakly. “I guess you can.” Her smile fell away as she gazed up at him; he watched as tears rolled down her cheek. “I want you to know, Spock, that I’m so, so proud of you. For what you’ve done for the Federation, in this reality and in yours. And for everything you have done and will do.”

            “Thank you, Mother.” He did not know what else to say, but it appeared he did not need to say anything. Amanda stood on tiptoe, kissed him on the cheek, and backed away.

            “You’d better go,” she said, tears streaming freely down her face now.

            Part of him wanted to stay, but logic – which told him that if he stayed he would never leave – prevailed, and he turned toward the platform, Nyota at his side. Spock took his communicator out of his pocket and contacted the Enterprise.

            The last he saw of the woman who was his mother, and yet was not, was a blur of white light as the transporter took them away.

            The captain was waiting for them on the bridge.

            “Back so soon?” he asked.

            “Captain,” Spock said, still trying to force the image of Amanda Grayson out of his mind. “We have much to discuss.”


	3. Chapter III

** Chapter III **

 

Uhura was exhausted. She had spent a double shift relaying messages back and forth between the Enterprise and the Starfleet Command of this reality; when not receiving countless inquiries from Command, she was responding to yet more questions posed by the Vulcan High Council.

Though she believed in the Starfleet Code almost like a religion, part of her wished they had gone the unofficial route and beamed their supplies out of there before high-tailing it back to their universe. Kirk, however, was still determined to prove his leadership abilities, and at Spock’s suggestion had decided to take the longer, more convoluted route – which meant everyone on the bridge was working twice as hard (and as long) as usual.

Spock, in a gesture that surprised no one, had refused the captain’s offer to give him a few days off to “cope with recent events.” He instead answered Command’s many questions himself and stayed on the bridge longer than anyone else. After three days, Uhura began to suspect that it was partly to avoid her and the conversation they both knew they would have once they were alone again.

When Kirk’s insistences for Spock to take time off turned into an order, Spock had no choice but to leave the bridge. A day later, Uhura had still not seen or heard from him. This confirmed, to her at least, that Spock was purposely delaying an encounter.

The turbolift’s propulsion system hummed quietly as it descended from the bridge to the fifth deck. Uhura placed her hands on her lower back and stretched like a cat, trying to work out the kinks that had developed in her spine after sitting at her station for sixteen straight hours. She thought longingly of crawling into bed, but she knew there was something she had to do first.

The lift glided to a stop. The doors slid open, and she stepped into the empty corridor. She could have found the right door blindfolded, she had been there so many times.

Her chime was not immediately answered. After a delay, the door opened with a hiss, and she entered.

            She had always liked Spock’s quarters; they were surprisingly comfortable, with an archaic atmosphere that reminded her of both a museum and her home in Africa. Vulcan paintings adorned the walls: paintings rich with color and geometric shapes so precise that she wondered if the painter had measured every brush-stroke. Ancient ceremonial weapons hung above the sofa; sculptures of Vulcan deities, of abstract shapes and animals, sat on tables. The sofa, chairs, table and comm unit looked out of place amidst the Vulcan relics.

            Spock was not in the first room, so she continued on. She found him seated on a mat on the floor of the bedroom, incense burning in front of him. The aromatic smoke rose in twisting, turning streams, creating strange shapes in the air before dissipating entirely; Uhura recognized the scent as sandalwood. Spock did not move when she settled down, cross-legged, beside him.

            His eyes were closed, but he knew she was there. After waiting a few minutes, she realized he was not going to speak first. It was not easy for Spock to talk about his feelings; it never had been, and she knew it never would be. Making him open up was more difficult than lassoing a cheetah. But this time, she knew, she had to make him talk.

            “Spock?” she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. His eyes finally opened.

            “You came sooner than I expected. Have Starfleet Command and the Council ceased making inquiries?”

            “Hardly,” Uhura said. “The captain finally made me leave.” She thought a moment, then added, “The Council is going to send someone aboard tomorrow to make an official report. After that, they’re going to decide what to do. I’d thought getting our supplies back would be easier than this.”

            “It is not the supplies they are concerned with,” Spock said, “but rather, how to proceed. They will undoubtedly wish to study the rift.”

            Uhura watched as Spock extinguished the sticks of incense and hung his meditation robes in the closet. When he turned back to her, she stood and stepped closer to him, placing her hands on his face.

            “How are you?” she asked quietly.

            “I am in excellent health,” he replied, his face coolly masked.

            “You know what I mean,” she said, pained by his evasive answer.

            Spock pulled away from her. He looked around the room for a moment in an uncharacteristically hesitant way, then he sat on the edge of the bed.

            “I do not know how to verbally express what I am feeling,” he confessed.

            Uhura sat beside him, sliding her arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder.

            “Try,” she said.

            Spock did not answer right away. Then he began, his voice low, so quiet she had to lift her head to hear properly.

            “Logic cannot rid me of the feeling that the woman on that planet is the same one who raised me. In a sense, she is. She has the same memories – preceding Vulcan’s destruction, of course. She behaves like her. She _is_ her, and yet she is not. I cannot explain it further than that. I know she is dead, but I also know she is alive on that planet. I cannot make sense of it. The two ideas conflict with each other. Seeing her again was ...” He paused, eyes searching the wall before him even as he searched for the right word.

            “Painful?” Uhura finished.

            “Painful,” he agreed. “I was pleased to see her, to know that at least one incarnation of my mother lives on, but it only reminds me of how I let…” He stopped, as if catching himself. Then, just like that, the wall went back up and he drew away from her. His voice returned to its normal flat tone as he stood from the bed. “It does not matter,” he said. “I will never see her again once we leave. Perhaps that is best.”

            Uhura considered coaxing the wall down again, but one look at Spock’s face told her the attempt would be in vain. So she went to him again, placing her hands on his face before kissing him; his lips moved only a little against hers.

            “In any case,” she said gently, “at least you got to say goodbye this time.”

            He nodded once in agreement, but said nothing. He turned away from her, busying himself with rolling up the meditation mat, as if trying to find his bearings. She let him and waited for him to decide where to take their conversation next.

            “Nyota, I would have you know that I appreciate the version of you that is in this universe for being a friend to my mother,” he said, still turned away.

            Uhura was startled. “Spock, you can’t thank me for something I didn’t do. Well, for something another me did.”

            “True, but it demonstrates a trait of yours that is there. You have the capacity for such a kind act, and for having that capacity, I thank you.”

            Uhura smiled sadly. “I imagine I needed her as much as she needed me.”

            She had spent far too much time the past few days contemplating her counterpart. She tried to imagine Spock not coming back from his mission, tried to imagine mourning him and eventually moving on. The idea sent a shiver down her spine. And to think, it had been such a near thing … and somewhere in this galaxy, in this alternate reality, it had happened. Somewhere, she was still grieving for her lost Vulcan lover.

            Spock, in full control of himself again, turned back to face her. “Nyota … had I not come back, you—” he began, but Uhura placed a finger against his lips.

            “Let’s not think about it,” she entreated him. “It doesn’t matter. In our reality, you did come back. Let’s be content with that knowledge and try not to confuse ourselves any more with what-if scenarios.”

            The corners of Spock’s mouth lifted in the almost-smile she loved so much. “A most logical suggestion,” he said.

            “I once had a half-Vulcan instructor at the Academy who instilled quite a bit of logic in me,” Uhura said with a smile. “He gave me a lot of private lessons.”

            This time when she kissed him, he kissed her back in earnest. But when she pulled way, he still looked distant. As she watched him finish cleaning up his meditation area, she hoped that they would be able to leave this place soon – and return to a universe where everything made sense. 

 

XXXXX

It was late at night on Uzh-Vulcan. The rooms of Amanda’s small, spare house were dark; the only light came from the distant construction sites, which were worked on night and day. Most of the city’s occupants were asleep or in meditation, but Amanda was wide awake, sitting on her bed with her back against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest.

            Even after a year, she was not used to the silence, to the emptiness of both her bed and her mind. Even when Sarek had been absent at night, she’d always had the bond to comfort her, the permanent link between their minds to let her know he was always with her. For a year now, that link had been gone, leaving her with nothing. Nothing but grief and sadness and loneliness.

            The thought of Sarek made Amanda hug her knees tighter. The same dark thoughts pervaded her mind which always did when he thought of him. He wasn’t supposed to die first; he was Vulcan, he was supposed to live another hundred years. In all their years of marriage she had never considered his dying before her. And so, when he died, she had been left wondering what she was supposed to do, certain she would never be happy again, and utterly heartbroken.

            And yet, for just a few shining hours, she _had_ been happy again.

            Spock. He was alive! Not in this universe, of course – she knew that – but he still existed in some form. He was alive and healthy and in love with the woman who was, in this reality at least, her only friend. Seeing him again, while unexpected, had been the best thing to happen to her since she lost both husband and son. Even now, in her dark bedroom on New Vulcan, she could hardly believe it had happened. Surely it was a dream? A wonderful dream, one from which she never wanted to wake.

            Knowing sleep would not come tonight – it had come even more rarely than usual ever since the day Spock arrived on her doorstep – Amanda got out of bed and went to the closet. From the top shelf she took a small box. She turned on the lamp by her bed and settled onto it again, removing the lid from the box.

            All of her pictures had been destroyed along with Vulcan, but Nyota had helped her procure some. Most of the pictures were official holographs taken from public databases – photos of Sarek with foreign dignitaries, Spock at Starfleet awards ceremonies – a few were the ones Nyota had collected from Spock’s apartment on Earth. These were more personal in nature: photos of Amanda and Spock on Earth when she came to visit him, photos of Sarek and Amanda taken by friends over the years. One even depicted Sarek holding an infant Spock, taken when their son was only a day old. This picture in particular made her smile. She caressed Sarek’s face, so serious as he held Spock. She remembered taking the picture: though one could not tell by his face alone, Sarek had been extremely proud of his newborn son.

            Nyota’s intention had been for Amanda to decorate the house with these pictures, but she had been unable to look at them every single day. Instead they had been relegated to the closet, to be taken out only when she was feeling particularly lonely.

            Now, Amanda began to set them out on her bedside table, on top of her dresser and on the tables in the living room. When she returned to the bedroom, she set the picture of Sarek and Spock on her nightstand so she could see it. Next to it she put a picture of the three of them, an eight-year-old Spock standing solemnly between his parents.

            In another reality, in some place she could never go, they still lived. The thought brought tears to Amanda’s eyes as she laid down on the bed facing the holographs. She looked at their faces, wishing….

            The idea struck her with the force of an oncoming asteroid. She sat up, excitement coursing through her, her tears forgotten. Of course! She did not have them here, and they did not have her there – it fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. If she could only get there, everything would be as it should.

            Then reason sunk in, and with it Amanda sank back into her pillows. It wasn’t possible, and even if it was, it wasn’t as if it would ever be the same.

            But as she stared at the holographs on her bedside table, she wondered … and planned.


	4. Chapter IV

** Chapter IV **

 

Finally, after five days, twenty-two hours and three minutes, the Enterprise was given clearance to leave.

            Spock was relieved by their departure. The alternate Amanda Grayson was a source of both pain and confusion for him, and the sooner he left her behind, the better.

            He felt Nyota’s eyes on him as he watched the planet shrink away. She had followed him to the observation deck, no doubt in pursuit of another conversation about his feelings. She had let him be for two days after their last encounter in his quarters, but he had known it was only a brief reprieve. Nyota was extremely determined: it was one of the many traits he had always admired about her.

            “We’re on our way home,” Nyota finally said, her voice full of forced cheer. When he did not respond, he heard her boots on the polished floor as she moved closer, stopping just behind him. “When we get back, I promise it’ll get better,” she said bracingly.

            “How illogical of humans to promise that which they cannot be certain of,” Spock said.

            He did not mean to sound offensive, but he could see the hurt look on Nyota’s face reflected in the observation window.

            “I’m only trying to—” she began, sounding uncertain. He turned to face her, hushing her with a hand against her cheek.

            “I know,” he told her. “I appreciate your attempts to console me, Nyota, but I trust you will not be offended when I tell you they have not been successful.”

            Nyota smiled gently. “I know.”

            “Should you not be on the bridge?” His hand fell back to his side as he stepped away from her. He usually insisted that they maintain a distance of three feet when not in either of their quarters.

            “Captain sent me to get you. He wants all bridge officers present when we return,” she said.

            They were entering warp speed as they headed to the bridge to oversee the transition back into their reality. Sulu was guiding the ship on the exact same route they had arrived by, Kirk watching the viewscreen intently.

            “Captain, there is a 20.8 percent chance that the rift is no longer there,” Spock said as he took his seat at the science station. To his left, Nyota did the same, fitting her earpiece into her ear.

            Kirk’s smile was tight. “Thanks, Spock. That’s comforting.”

            They were nearing the point where the anomaly had occurred before. Spock kept a watchful eye on the sensors, waiting, waiting … part of him hoping nothing would happen….

            The ship shuddered; Spock’s seat lurched. Everyone grabbed their consoles, bracing themselves – for nothing.

            Once again it was over as quickly as it had begun. When Spock checked the sensors, they showed abnormal readings: the anomaly had indeed occurred.

            “Hail Command,” Kirk instructed Nyota. “Put it on the main viewscreen.”

            There was a brief delay, then Admiral Pike’s face appeared on-screen, looking flustered.

            “Captain Kirk,” he said, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “About damn time! What happened to you?”

            “It’s a long story, Admiral,” Kirk said with a grin. “How long have we been gone?”

            “Five days. It was like the Enterprise had completely disappeared. You didn’t answer our hails and no one in the vicinity could detect you on their sensors.”

            “Like I said … long story, Admiral. I’ll send you a complete report by 2200 hours. In the meantime, does Shen s’Vitush still need those supplies?”

            “Captain Sang is still held up, so if you don’t mind…”

            “Not at all, sir. We should be there in twenty minutes.”

            “Good. And Captain? I expect that report by 1900 hours,” Pike said, then signed off.

            “Well, Uhura, Spock,” Kirk said, swiveling the Command chair around to face them. “Do you want to try going to the surface again?”

            Spock met Nyota’s eyes and nodded once. “Yes, Captain. My father was awaiting our arrival and is likely … concerned that we never showed up.”

            “You are dismissed, then. Try to be back by 1600 hours. We’re, uh … behind schedule as it is.”

            But before they could even reach the turbolift doors, Commander Scott’s voice filled the bridge from the control console on Kirk’s chair.

            “Cap’n?”

            “Yes, Scotty,” Kirk replied.

            “You might wan’ to come down to Cargo Bay Four. We have a … situation.”

            “A situation?” Kirk frowned. “What kind of situation?”

            “You’ll need to come see for yourself, sir.”

            Spock and Kirk exchanged a look. If Mr. Scott did not feel that he could tell them over the intercom, it must be something quite alarming.

            “We’ll go, Captain,” Nyota said. “We’re on our way down to that level anyway.”

            Kirk nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

            None of them spoke a word on the way down to Cargo Bay Four. Spock considered the possible reasons for Mr. Scott’s mysterious message: it was clearly not dangerous, or he would have declared an emergency. When they arrived at their destination, he still had not decided on a theory.

            The doors to the cargo bay opened: just inside, two Security officers struggled to contain a woman dressed in Vulcan robes. Each of them had a hold of one of her arms, but she was twisting in their grasp, trying to get away. Commander Scott waited for them with a bemused expression on his face.

            “Let go of me!” the woman snarled, jerking her arm out of one officer’s hands. Her veil slipped off, revealing long brown hair streaked with gray. Then her eyes – so painfully familiar – found Spock. She stopped struggling immediately.

            “Mother?” Spock asked in disbelief.

 

XXXXX

 

“Spock,” Amanda said, relief filling her at the sight of her son. She glared at her captors. “Can you please tell these idiots to let me go? I’m unarmed. I’m hardly a threat.”

            Spock nodded at the Security officers, who released Amanda at once. She rubbed her wrists, still casting dark looks at the men who had held her.

            “Thank you,” she said. Then she turned her eyes back to Spock. He looked just as he had before, just as her Spock had a year ago. Seeing him again assured her that she had done the right thing, after all.

            “What are you doing here?” Spock’s voice was low; he glanced at the others in the cargo bay, then back at her. “How did you get aboard?”

            “It wasn’t as hard as you might think,” she said. “In fact, you should really work on your security – if I could get on this ship, anyone could.”

            Amanda had expected Spock to be surprised and at least a little pleased, but the anger in his eyes was unmistakable.

            “You should not be here.” His voice betrayed no emotion; his father would have been quite proud of the control he was clearly exercising over his anger.

            “Security.” The captain’s voice was quiet as he looked from Spock to Amanda. “Please escort … ah…” He looked uncertainly at Amanda.

            “You can call me Amanda. Or Ms. Grayson, if that would make you more comfortable,” Amanda supplied.

            “Escort Ms. Grayson to one of the guest quarters. We’ll keep her there until I talk to Command and figure out when we can take her back through the rift.”

            “No!” Amanda’s tone was as sharp as her gaze when she looked at the captain. “I’m not going back.”

            “We can’t let you stay here,” Kirk said, looking uncomfortable.

            “The captain is quite right,” Spock said. He was staring at Amanda in that cool way Vulcans had when they were not pleased. “You do not belong here.”

            “Yes, you _can_ let me stay, and you will,” Amanda stated. “I’m claiming asylum.”

            “The right to claim asylum is restricted to those from planets outside the Federation. It does not pertain to people from alternate realities,” Spock pointed out.

            “The right to claim asylum refers to any and all aliens to the Federation,” Amanda corrected. “I am an alien to this reality, thus I meet the requirements.” She smiled at Spock. “I was married to an ambassador for thirty years, Spock. I learned quite a few things from him.”

            Spock’s shoulders slumped a fraction of an inch: always a sign that she had won the argument. His father had done it too. Smiling triumphantly, she turned to the captain.

            “Well, Captain?” she said. “Am I right?”

            “Unfortunately, Spock, I think she’s right,” Kirk said, throwing Spock an apologetic look. “We have no choice but to let her stay, at least long enough for the Federation Council to look over her case.”

            “Very well, Captain,” Spock said, somewhat stiffly. “Then I will escort her to my quarters, where she will remain until all the proper authorities have been notified.”

            Amanda noted that Spock spoke as if she were a prisoner. She said nothing, her lips pressed firmly together as he and Nyota led her out of the cargo bay, up to the fifth deck and into his quarters.

            “Please sit,” Spock said, gesturing toward the table and chairs. Amanda sat; Spock and Nyota sat across from her. Spock looked at her for a long moment; this time she was unable to tell what he was thinking. Finally, he spoke again. “Why are you here?”

            “I had nothing left there.” Amanda looked at him, chin raised defiantly. “Tell me, Spock – wouldn’t you seize the opportunity to see your family again if they were all dead and you spent a year alone, mourning them? Wouldn’t you want to be with the people you love?” Amanda looked at Nyota as she said this; Nyota, who had been watching her, looked down at her hands, which were folded on top of the table.

            “I may have wanted to,” Spock admitted. “But I would not have done what you did.”

            “I would have,” Nyota murmured.

            Spock looked at her in surprise. “Nyota, there are consequences to what she has done. She does not belong in this reality any more than you would if it were you.”

            “I’m just saying I understand why she made this decision, Spock,” Nyota said with a shrug. She did not look up at him. “If it were me, I’d want to see you again too. And logic, telling me it shouldn’t be done, wouldn’t be enough to stop me. I would react as a human – and yes, I would make the same decision.”

            He did not appear to know what to say to this, so Amanda stepped in.

            “Spock, you may not agree with what I’ve done, but it’s done, and that’s that.” She folded her arms over her chest.

            Spock seemed to know that what she said was true, because he changed the subject. Yet another Vulcan tactic they used whenever they knew the argument had been lost.

“How did you manage to board the ship?” he asked, eyebrows drawn together.

            “Well, like I said, it was actually quite easy. Even after Sarek’s death, I do still hold some influence over the Council. Since I already knew about your presence in our reality anyway, they kept me abreast of the situation. I knew when they gave you clearance to leave. I didn’t really believe until then that I’d go through with it, but as soon as the word came in, I went to the transporter station. It was busy – the workers were setting crates and boxes on the transporter pads, so they didn’t notice when I slipped into a crate filled with blankets.” Amanda smiled, perhaps a little smugly. “Then I just had to wait until I was sure we were in your reality. Nyota mentioned a disturbance, so I figured I’d know when the time was right – and I was correct. Mr. Scott, I believe his name is, found me before I left the cargo bay, but that was no matter. I was already here.”

            Spock shook his head, whether in dismay or wonderment, she didn’t know. “Have you even considered the ramifications of your actions?” he asked, his tone sharper than usual. “This is a highly classified matter – how will you explain your sudden reappearance to those on Shen s’Vitush? More importantly, how will you explain it to Father?”

            “Do you really think I’m such a fool that I wouldn’t consider any of that before making my decision?” Amanda shook her head. “I’m no fool, Spock. I have all of that figured out. Everyone who personally knew me and your father are dead, with the exception of those on the Council. As far as I know from the survivor registries, there is no one else on Shen s’Vitush who will know my face. Anyone else would easily believe that my death was just a rumor.” Then Amanda hesitated. “As for your father, well …”

She had thought of Sarek almost nonstop since making her decision to stow away on the Enterprise. She wanted so badly to see him again – to kiss him, to feel his mind in hers – but she had yet to figure out a way to tell him. “We can’t let him find out with the rest of the Council,” she decided. “But I can’t just show up on his doorstep like you did – believe me, it’s too much of a shock.”

            At that moment, the intercom buzzed and the captain’s voice sounded throughout the room. “Spock, we’ve just dropped out of warp and we’re orbiting the Vulcan colony. Transporter Room Three is standing by.”

            Spock got up and pressed the button on the intercom unit. “Thank you, Captain.” There was a pause; Spock looked at Amanda, then said, “If it is possible, I would like to request that my father be given security clearance on the issue at hand, and that you not inform the Vulcan High Council until I have had the opportunity to tell him first. I think it would be easier for him to be told by me rather than to find out with the other councilmembers.”

            “I’ll run that by Command and let you know when I get an answer. Kirk out.”

            The room was silent as Spock turned to Nyota and Amanda. To Amanda he said, “You will stay on the Enterprise with Nyota until I tell you to come.”

            Amanda sighed with relief, and then smiled. She got up to kiss Spock’s cheek – something he’d always disliked, but she had always done anyway – but he tensed when she neared him. Amanda stopped short, her smile tightening. “Thank you, Spock,” she said, reminding herself that his mother was dead and she was not, in fact, his mother.

            “I am only doing it to spare my father the surprise of seeing you again,” Spock said. “I am in no way validating what you have done.”

            “Thank you anyway,” Amanda said, smiling up at him.

            He was about to leave for the bridge when she reached out, taking his arm. She stepped closer to him.

            “Spock, please understand that I did this with only the best of intentions in mind,” she murmured, too low for Nyota to hear. “I wanted to see you and your father again. I … I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. I thought that maybe, if we were together again ...” She bit her lip, doubt about her actions beginning to creep in.

            For the first time since he discovered her in the cargo bay, Amanda saw Spock’s face soften.

            “I know, Mother,” he said quietly, then he took her hand and squeezed it.

            And as he turned to leave, Amanda knew that he was at least a little happy to see her after all.


End file.
